


What Would Ya Do For Some Mangos?

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 3
Genre: Cum shot, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fetish Clothing, Frottage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Stockings, Tights, hot dogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-07 09:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Summary: So, you're here and Vaas is rifling through everything you hold dear, including your research and then he finds 'them.' Now it's just a matter of swallowing your pride and letting this evening happen the way he wants it too. The less you fight, the easier this will be and the sooner you can eat some food.Anon #1 asked: Took me all day to pluck up the courage to ask but... could you possibly maybe please do a Vaas fic about getting captured with a group of friends and getting taken a liking to and kept as a personal pet instead of being sold off. Like also maybe sexual favors in exchange for necessities like water or medicine?Anon #2 asked: Hey! Just wanna say I really love your writing and your art, but you probably here that on a daily. Anyway, have you written (or thought about writing) a fic about Vaas (Far Cry 3) or Pagan Min (Far Cry 4)? Honestly Far Cry is full of character I'd love you to sprinkle your magic writing dust on.A/N: For Kinktober Day 30 (stockings).





	What Would Ya Do For Some Mangos?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



Coal-stained fingers tear through your suitcase like a jackal on a carcass. The man they call Vaas, hums as he up-ends most, if not all, of your possessions, tossing aside a stress ball your now deceased Dad gave you when you were going through finals for your Masters in Entomology. The little blue spongy whale bounces off the floor and rests sadly beside a crate of stamped wine. 

Your captor crouches low around your bag, sends you a curiously manic look and pulls out a fabric toiletry case printed with repeating ladybugs. Ever since he stopped by to see the newest ‘choice cut’,Vaas has been nothing but glee and threatening words. 

He raises an eyebrow before grinning with all his teeth. It’s the humiliation at seeing your things laid out and studied - mocked - that makes you blush, not the weirdly attractive visage of a man who's probably going to either kill you, sell you or… no…

You squeeze your eyes shut and think about butterflies instead of the many threats surrounding you. So far you’ve been handled with care, even the handcuffing to the bedpost was done by a man who kept you from bruising yourself during your struggle. 

“Science expedition, huh? That’s really interesting… because when I think of scientists, I picture the white hair and glasses and maybe one of those canes like-“ he snaps his fingers, looking back at the guy standing by the doorway with some type of assault rifle, “what’s that dude’s name from the dinosaur movies?”

“Dr. Hammond,” the bandana-masked man replies with his eyes hard on you and the handcuffs attaching you to the metal bed frame. You’re not sure since everyone of these men have been remarkably unremarkable in their similarities, but you think he was the one that shackled you down earlier. 

“Yes!” Vaas shouts with a slap to the side of his head that makes you jerk in surprise, “Yes!! He had that cane with the bug in it. Man, mixing frog and dino spunk is what you intellects do when you get bored, huh? Yes,” he grins and points at you - finger bouncing as if he’s on some type of upper, “you know what I’m talking about! That’s the kinda scientist I picture, not whatever you are…”

His loud exclamation trails off as he rifles through your toiletry bag, finding the usual toothpaste, brush and dental floss. You blink and look away when he rolls a plastic wrapped tampon between his fingers and tosses that behind him but it’s the three condoms that make your face flare up. 

Vaas giggles - a short sporadic sound - followed by another bout of laughter, “... oh! I knew. Yeah, ya know.... I knew there was something I liked about you. These other wrinkled old fucks, no no no no… they have no clue. No fucking clue.”

Not understanding his train of thought and barely able to listen for the blood rushing in your ears, you begin noticing the signs of a panic attack in your body. It quickly becomes a thousand degrees hotter when Vaas pulls out a paper package of stockings with the expression of a man finding a rolled up wad of hundreds. His eyes glaze over and that grinning, antimatter expression falls into something dark and foreboding. 

He turns the thin square package around, reads the back with fast skimming eyes and jerks his head to the man by the door. 

“Get the fuck out of here.”

The man standing with the gun hesitates for only a second before doing as he’s told. Before he can shut the metal door behind him, Vaas clicks his tongue and looks back at the guy frozen in the the doorway. 

“You guard that door with your mother fuckin’ life. You hear me? Don’t think I’m playing, don’t think I’m fucking playing with you, my friend. No one comes in… no one. We understand one another?!”

The whole time the exchange is happening, you can’t stop your limbs and shoulders from shaking. Your wrists rattle the cuffs because your body is trembling like it’s minus thirty degrees; bare naked in the snow. 

The man in the red bandana nods before slamming the door closed, locking one, two, three and a chain lock behind him while you watch the way Vaas - your captor - thumbs the unopened pantyhose package. This is the first time he’s looks contemplative and not a hairline fracture away from pulling the gun in his back pocket on you. It’s too intimate of a look for you not to read into it. Something sick is about to play out and ready or not, you’ll have to find a way to power through it. Survival of the most resilient. 

“You know,” he begins, opening the package like it’s a wrapped truffle, “when I was a little boy, just small, my sister used to bring me to see the dancers on the shores. Sunset. Blue ocean waves and the colors were so so so very vibrant…”

You begin to hyperventilate as the cardboard-folded pantyhose is slowly unraveled around his fingers. If he wasn’t so gentle with the gauzy fabric, the seams would tear, but he is careful and he is… gentle. Lifting the nude sheer threads to his face, he inhales shamelessly. 

Vaas pulls the slightly sweaty hose away, revealing a long smile and continues, “I used to tell my sister ‘hey, guess what?’ and she’d lean over and smile and say ‘what, my brother?? what?!’ and I’d tell her that one day…”

The stockings unravel from his fists carefully and with a perverse looking grin, Vaas nuzzles the crotch with his nose; black-lined eyes dilated on you, “... ‘I’m going to own one of them’ and you know what she did? She laughed. Thought I was joking, but me? Me joking?? Can you even fucking imagine it?!”

His sudden, belligerent bellow sends you back across the floor, further into the side of the bed with your arms outstretched against the frame; trembling in fear. 

He stands. Vaas closes in on you and crouches close enough that you can smell the perspiring testosterone on him. An odor of blood is there as well as something chemical… like cocaine, maybe or something else. Propane is there too as if his boots are stained with the propellant. 

The pantyhose are lifted between you both like a contract. “Put these on and we’ll talk about some mangoes and… if you’re extra good, I’ll get you a real nice cafe latte.”

Your stomach clenches in hunger and even if you weren’t starving, there’s no other option but to do as he says. He’s the one with the gun and you’re cuffed to a heavy steel bed frame. There are no other options but that doesn’t mean you don’t let a few tears fall off your cheeks.

“Oh,” he coos in a mock-comfort, “No, no, no. No. Don’t you fucking cry, Bella Chica. You know you look less beautiful when you cry. You don’t wanna look less beautiful right now, do you? Ain’t your big fancy education I’m interested in, is it?”

Vaas grabs the crown of your head and shakes your head ‘no’ as you hold back the waterworks. No, you think. He’s not interested in anything but those stockings and what he’s gonna do to you once you’re inside of them. It’s a blatant realization and oddly enough the terror you’d been feeling while wondering if this was where things were leading, is gone now that you know. Vaas is going to fuck you, or perhaps the hard word for it is rape. However this pans out, you didn’t want it in the beginning. 

He won’t hurt you if you’re complacent, or so he said in a less eloquent turn of phrase. Teeth in your lip, you hold in a vile sound while maneuvering around his big, dirty hands. He takes your boots, socks, canvas shorts and… slightly damp underwear off one by one with methodical slowness as though intentionally prolonging your torture. 

For a moment he loses track of time, cradling the smooth sole of your heel with reverence. Vaas, in the short time you’ve been in his presence, is nothing if not unpredictable… so you don’t move unless he’s the one turning your limbs around or stretching your calf out, or rolling your ankle with a low hanging smile.

Another minute, and you’d have been tricked into thinking he had a thing for feet instead of your cunt, but with a drop of your heel Vaas undoes the right steel cuff around your wrist, freeing you from the steel bed frame. It takes more resolve than you’d thought you had to not immediately scramble back, kick him in the face and try your luck at the door. Somehow, you manage. 

He unlocks the other cuff, thumbing the red indent left behind and tosses the handcuffs across the floor. The pantyhose are shoved into your chest - a silent command - before you can think twice about the tender contact. There’s no way you’ll argue against those downward pointing brows, cut with scar tissue and messed up kohl liner. No way you’ll win a fight against him. He’s bigger… stronger and there’s that fun still hanging out the back of his pants. 

Being a placeholder for his fetish isn’t ideal, but it’s better than being dead. Wearing your pantyhose is better than being naked from the waist down, you think, but then... why does it sound so much worse? Because, you tell yourself with a blush, the silk stockings are more appealing to him than bare skin - because he’s got an erection under the red canvas trousers and you know just where this is going; leading. If you’re lucky, he’ll humiliate you… maybe touch you a little… perhaps he’ll just jerk himself off while you shake your ass in shame for his pleasure with that gun trained on you. 

Worst case scenario is that he’s going to rape you after shredding the stockings. Vaas may very well do all of these things and more. He could even kill you when he’s done instead of selling you, just so no one else knows about his secret fetish, so you start mentally preparing yourself now as he licks his lips with dirty, sweaty anticipation. Still crouched on the floor, so close, your fingers clench in the sheer material against your bosom. 

“Those dancers. They had these… shiny, smooth legs that caught the light just right,” he says, staring at the tight ‘v’ of your closed off cunt and the naked thighs that widen above your folded legs.

He stares with intoxication and eager debasement as your arms start shaking. 

Vaas motions for you to stand, snapping his fingers sharply when you buckle on your way up. He watches, like a vulture on a rotten carcass, as you slip into the pantyhose one leg at a time; trying to keep you inner thighs as close together as possible so as not to showcase the unconsciously wet folds between. A leering groan comes from him, eyes heavy and raised. 

He’s an open book and you can see his thoughts inside his blown pupils. Images of being roughly fucked - sobbing and mewling as you’re bounced by the velocity of his thrusts across the bare mattress - play across his gaze. The waistband snaps above the width of your hips and another myriad of debauchery fills his eyes. There’s more he wants to do. Endless possibilities abound. 

The way he licks his lips - the way his lashes flutter as though mesmerized for a moment - sends you blushing and sweating. You’re closer to being abused than you were a minute ago, but your fear doesn’t grow unlike the moisture between your thighs. Arousal floods out your cunt, gradually staining the crotch of the hose.

You are, for a moment, breathless and shocked when Vaas crawls forward across the floor on hands and knees, only to snatch up your outer thighs and stuff his face against your cunt. A damp, warm tongue shoves against the seam just to the left of your clit, drenching the material before your body can. His hands squeeze, shift around your back to mold your ass cheeks, denting fat and jiggling everything until his face is half buried under your cunt. 

He snorts hot air against your mound and down along your slit. A wide-eyed look stamps your face as Vaas makes dog noises, slurps at you against the pantyhose and motorboats your inner thighs until you can’t help it - you moan. 

Your involuntary sound gifts you a hard slap on the ass, which gets Vaas another moan and you another spank and squeeze.

“... my flamenco dancer. My. Dancer,” he groans, muffled against your crotch, “little pájaro brillante... and she’s all mine. Mine. Mine. MINE!” The vibrations of his growing insanity sends shivers along your folds, bringing out more slickness, sending you forward with palms over his head and denting his mohawk but it doesn’t make him bite or attack, just causes his tongue to lap and his lips to suck with closed eyes and raised brows of pure contentment.

This is what Vaas didn’t want his guards to see. The weak, vulnerable way this kind of thing affects him. He’s basically on his knees, at your mercy right now, eating you through soaked stockings as you fail at holding back moans and thread your fingers through his black, oily hair.

For a moment you’re standing with his mouth speaking and licking and singing some foreign song against your cunt and the next Vaas is sucking your cunt in his mouth, then ripping himself away. He spins you around by the ass and hips, throws you down on the bed face first and pulls your knees open. The springs make you bounce - makes your ass jiggle. 

A wave of humiliation creeps into your cheeks when he shoves his face back against your slit, nose between your cheeks, and wiggles his tongue over constricted folds and a begging little clit. He hasn’t paid any attention to the tender nub, but he’s brushed it enough that you’d swallow your dignity and ask him for some mercy if this keeps up a minute longer. But thankfully, his belt buckle clicks. Fabric sags and his pants fall thickly to the floor.

Let this be over quickly, you think, curling nails into your palms in preparation.

“... you’re lucky ya know… so very lucky. Lucky you’re a hot piece of ass. Smart ass that’s worth a lot of mula. What’s that big brain thinking about now? Is it fucking thinking? Is it thinking about this dick? This FINE fucking dick!”

That red-lined word of rape enters your head after ignoring it while he’d been bathing his face in your cunt, but now it’s there and the word sticks. Your heart races. Sick rises and hovers in the middle of your throat, but Vaas doesn’t tear away the nylon. He doesn’t penetrate you. 

At first, you don’t know what he’s doing until the sensations and sounds finally click. He’s rubbing the head of his cock inside the softest part of one ass cheek while jerking himself off with slow, squeezing strokes. 

Warm precum stains the sheer stockings; heating your skin. 

“… cógeme,” Vaas groans while dragging his dick along one cheek to the other before resting the hot slab between them.

Tears of mortification burn in your eyes but with every thrust between your silky globes, Vaas stokes a sick type of excitement that sends scratchy heat down your core. Being used and abused doesn’t turn you on. This shouldn’t arouse you. You shouldn’t be whining under your breath… or rocking back into his thrusts nor should you be eager for what’s to come, and yet you clutch the dirty sheets underneath you and lift your hips as Vaas - your kidnapper and more - fucks his cock back and forth, pushing your ass cheeks together.

“Ooh, yeah. Eat up that dick - encase the sausage. FUCK ME. Now,” he demands, planting a knee on the bed as you churn your ass back and forth, feeling his thickness slip and slide between your ass; his hips bouncing off your backside. The motions make the seam against your cunt dig through your folds and with every thrust the nylon tears a little bit; holes opening and spreading up to where his cock strokes. The sudden glide of cum-stained cock between your naked cheeks shouldn’t be as shocking as it is. 

You gasp, try not to beg either which way… because that won’t do you any good, but before you can break your silent promise, he hisses.

“Fuck YOU. Fucking... FUCK you!” He swears and insults, shooting cum down the crack of your ass, “... puta perra…”

You bite down a sigh of relief mixed with disssapiontment as his cockhead slides forward, spurting a load down the slope of your ass and into the hollow of your back, but after that - one small trickle that warms your tight hole - it’s over. Beneath the ruined pantyhose, your cunt pounds. Further above, between your lungs, your heart pounds and even further up, your brain is surging with stifled norepinephrine and oxytocin. 

Vaas squeezes your cheeks around his softening cock a final time before letting your lower body bounce back on the shitty mattress, chuckling with tired pleasure.

You’re covered in cum against your will, wearing ripped stockings and left to marinate like a fucking object, but all you can chew on is how hot and needy your insides are - how, once he leaves, if he does, you’re going to get yourself off as fast as you can and then do your best to forget about all of this.

“WooHOO! WHOOO!” Vaas shouts, howls like a wolf like some sick alarm for the rest of the compound because somewhere all around them, the camp shouts back and some of them laugh. You bury your face in the gross mattress and wrinkle your nose in humiliation. 

A final punch to your pride comes in the form of a few soft pats to your ass. 

Vaas buckles himself back up, steps backward on wobbly feet judging by the sound and his chuckling leak of breath before you see him in your peripherals. He’s wiping sweat off his forehead, slicking back the mohawk and kicking your clothes across the floor like a kid shucking his feet after having a damn good time.

He turns on his heel, spreads his arms wide and takes a few steps back to the locked door. 

“Hey! I promised you some mangoes didn’t I?! Yeah. I did. I fucking promised you some sweet fucking mangoes for that sweet pussy so you give me a few minutes, Chica. Two minutes. Four minutes and I’ll be back for you. I ain’t done.”

He pants, licks his teeth and bangs a fist on the metal door until the locks starts unlatching. Vaas bends low and meets your eyes as you pant and glare.

“I’m coming back with those slippery, juicy slices. Then me and you are gonna talk about making this meeting of the minds permanent. You’ll like me. I like you. No lie.”

The guard in the bandana mask doesn’t spare you a look. He keeps his eyes on the floor cause he knows better and Vaas is watching. He leaves you unbound in a room with nothing but a steel door, a gun-toting guard outside said door, and your suitcase with little but a pair of nail clippers to defend yourself with. 

It’s not ideal by a long shot, but instead of masturbating the warmth away, you peel off the ruined pantyhose, slip into the clothes he’d kicked across the floor and wait beside your suitcase. Thankfully, you packed a book on forensic entomology to tide you over until Vaas returns with the mangoes, maybe by then, you’ll find the words to smooth talk him into some better living conditions. Start small and evolve… it’s all you can do.

“Beetles bear me strength…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have the time, please leave me a comment letting me know what worked for you or what didn't.
> 
> Thank you to Flesh Dust for betaing! <3
> 
>  
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